Nightmare at the Museum
by DinerGuy
Summary: Museums are fun for some people, usually educational, and almost never include near-death experiences. Shawn Spencer, however, is not a normal person.
1. Chapter 1

I have this sneaking suspicion that if I did own Psych, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction... Just sayin'.

This was written for the Whumpathon challenge for 2012. Beta'ed by the amazing Texasartchick (who I am honored offered to read it over for me).

**Location:** Museum

**Whump recipient:** Lassiter

**Whump toolkit:** cleaner, doorframe

Part of the challenge was to pick a certain trope to use, so I chose locking two characters in a small enclosed space. Also included, as required: Ding Dongs (snack cakes) and a conversation about zombies.

Enjoy!

* * *

Museums are fun for some people, usually educational, and almost never include near-death experiences. Shawn Spencer, however, is not a normal person.

It wasn't that Lassiter hated the man... Well, maybe he did. But either way, it was more the fact that the man (rather, the man-child) could not behave for any length of time that annoyed the head detective the most.

Take that morning for example. The station had been relatively calm and quiet as the officers and detectives arrived and got their workdays started. Then Spencer and his friend had to show up and ruin everything...

* * *

_"Well, hello, detectives! How goes the day?" Spencer babbled, seating himself on O'Hara's desk and flashing one of his annoying smiles that he most likely assumed to be charming._

_For her part, Lassiter's partner didn't seem to mind the antics. "Good morning, Shawn," O'Hara smiled back at the man on her desk._

_"Spencer!" Lassiter had already had enough and the psychic hadn't even been in the room for two minutes. It was quite possibly a record of some sort. "Some of us have work to do, so why don't you go find something to do that does not involve me, O'Hara, or this station." He glared at Guster for good measure. "And don't you have an actual job you could be doing?"_

_"But Gus's office building is being fumigated, Lassieface," Spencer said seriously. "Rodents of unusual size were running around like it was their own personal fire swamp."_

_Guster rolled his eyes. "There was a field mouse problem, Shawn. There were no giant rats."_

_Nearly ready to begin banging his head against the desktop, Lassiter took a deep breath. "Spencer, if you have nothing beneficial to add to our morning, which I can assure you you do not, then you do not belong here right now."_

_"Would I belong here later then?" Spencer queried, a lopsided grin on his face._

_Before Lassiter could respond, the door to the chief's office swung open and Chief Karen Vick stepped out. "Detectives, my office please," Vick called, nodding to them._

_Spencer leaped up grinning. "See, Lassie? I told you we needed to be here."_

* * *

Lassiter sighed and rubbed his temples. Right about now, he was really wishing for an ordinary murder case instead of protective duty for the kid of some friend of the mayor's. Lassiter prided himself on being the best detective in the entire department, but on days like today, he wished that certain people would not pull strings to get the mayor to get the chief to get the best detectives in the department to play baby-sitters. But apparently the guy was worried after hearing that the museum had been broken into the previous week and was convinced someone would break in again - in the middle of the day. Because that was so plausible.

The only thing worse than a paranoid string-puller was a pain-in-the-neck police consultant who claimed to have been drawn to the station to help out with whatever the detectives happened to be doing. Spencer declared he could use his "gift" to assist in the protection, and even though Lassiter had given him as many threatening looks as possible every time their eyes met, Spencer still showed up in the museum's parking lot with Guster and that ridiculous blue car.

And now, as they had been for the past half hour, Lassiter, O'Hara, Spencer, and Guster were following a group of eight-year-olds and their tour guide around the museum. Lassiter was keeping his eyes open for any sign of trouble, though he knew there would be none, and his partner was doing the same. The two grown children in the group, however, were not.

Guster was behaving for the most part, Lassiter had to admit. But Spencer was another story entirely. The man was currently waving his hand like an excited kindergartener in answer to the tour guide's asking if anyone had any questions.

The woman's eyebrows were nearly in her hairline as she pointed hesitantly at Spencer. "Um... yes?"

"I was wondering," Spencer began, looking beyond pleased with himself for being called upon, "if that dinosaur comes to life after dark, like in that movie with the monkey."

Several of the children in the group grinned and began chattering excitedly at the possibility. The tour guide looked like she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. "That is ridiculous. It is a display of a dinosaur skeleton and there is no way it could ever 'come to life.'" She cleared her throat. "Now if you'll follow me, we'll continue our tour in the next room."

The group moved on, but O'Hara suddenly looked around. "Where's Rob?"

"He was in the group..." Lassiter trailed off as he realized that their charge was no longer with the other children. "Sweet justice, Spencer! You distract me for two minutes and the kid wanders off!"

Spencer had the nerve to look shocked by the accusation. "Why are you blaming me, Lassie?" he asked as innocently as possible. "She said any question. I had a question. It's not my fault he couldn't follow that list of a hundred million rules you laid out before we even left the station."

Guster looked a little pale as he glanced around the room. "We'd better find him."

"Thank you, Guster, for stating the obvious," Lassiter snapped. "Of course we need to find him. I for one am not going to let some ten year old run wild in the halls of the museum when I'm supposed to be watching him."

"He's eight, actually," O'Hara corrected. "When was the last time anyone remembers seeing him with the group?"

"I think I saw him when we were looking at the Egyptian archaeology exhibit," Guster offered.

O'Hara nodded. "I remember that, too."

"Okay," Lassiter took charge. "O'Hara, you go check the archaeology exhibit," he pointed to one of the many doors leading off from the room in which they were currently standing. "I will go the other way and check those exhibits."

"I'll go with Juliet," Guster offered. "Two sets of eyes are better than one."

"And I'll go with you, Lassie!" Spencer was far too excited.

"I don't need your help, Spencer," Lassiter stated, turning on his heel. "You go another way. Everyone, keep your eyes peeled. That kid couldn't have gotten far. Call me the minute you find him."

"What if you find him?" Spencer asked, keeping pace with the head detective.

Lassiter just walked faster.

"Aw, come on, Lassiefrass. You heard what Gus said. Two eyes are better than one, right?"

"Well then it's a good thing I already have two," Lassiter rolled his eyes. "And I'm serious, Spencer. Shoo."

Spencer looked up from where he was checking behind a display case of various shells. "You really should work on lightening up, Lassie."

"There are more important things to work on. Like finding that kid," Lassiter muttered.

They passed into the next room, having looked under and behind everything large enough to conceal a child. After checking it thoroughly, they continued through the far doorway.

It was late morning, and not many other visitors were to be seen. Here and there, one or two small clusters of people moved from display to display, but the museum was mostly quiet. Or rather, it was quiet other than for Spencer's babbling.

Lassiter had resorted to simply ignoring the other man, tuning out most of what he was saying. Suddenly, however, he became aware of Spencer's incessant calling of his name.

"Lassie!" Spencer was drawing out his name in a sing-song tone. "Lassieface!"

"What now, Spencer?" the detective demanded, turning from where he was checking the interior of a walk-in model of an igloo.

Spencer was pointing at a door in the far wall. "Let's check there."

"It's just a closet, Spencer."

"Yeah, and?" Spencer prompted. "It's the perfect hiding spot!"

"It's also locked," Lassiter motioned towards the keypad beside the door. "Unless this kid is some sort of junior Houdini, I think we're okay not checking in there."

Spencer grinned. "You never know. Maybe he is."

Rolling his eyes, Lassiter turned to duck inside the igloo again. Before he could step all the way through, however, Spencer's voice interrupted him a second time.

"What if the door isn't locked?"

"What do you mean, it isn't..." Lassiter trailed off as he took in the now-open storage closet door and the self-satisfied look on Spencer's face. "What in the name of sweet Justice did you do, Spencer?"

"No need to snap like that, Lassie." Spencer had the nerve to look offended. "It isn't like I hacked the keypad or anything. I just turned the handle." The innocent look on his face would have been enough to fool most people, but Lassiter was having none of the other man's nonsense.

He crossed his arms and glared across the room. "For your information, Spencer, I am not impressed by your shenanigans one bit." He held up his hand as the other man opened his mouth. "Let me finish. I did not invite you along on this field trip. I did not invite you along to help me search. And for that matter, I never even invited you into the department six years ago. Just because you are here does not mean... What are you doing?"

Spencer seemed to have lost interest in listening to the lecture being given to him and was now halfway through the closet door. "This room is way too dark to see anything," his muffled voice floated out. "I can't see the light switch either."

"Maybe there is none," Lassiter muttered. He rolled his eyes and turned to leave the room and the annoying psychic behind, but Shawn's now-panicked voice made him stop in his tracks and turn around.

The closet door appeared to now be shut, and Spencer's voice was coming from behind it. "Lassie! Lassie, I'm stuck!"

Lassiter was tempted to just leave and let the maintenance people let Spencer out whenever they next used the closet, but the thought of having to explain things to his partner made him sigh heavily and head for the closet. "Spencer, so help me, when I get you out of there I will-"

"Gotcha!"

The seconds following Spencer's outburst and the door flying open contained several things, most of which were completely instinct for Lassiter. He had no idea how he restrained himself from actually pulling the trigger.

"Whoa! Whoa! Lassie! It's just me!" Spencer's eyes were wide and his hands were upraised as he took in the gun pointed at his chest.

Lassiter was in no mood to deal with the other man's childishness at the moment. He still had a kid to find - and he had very nearly shot a department consultant for crying out loud! The paperwork associated with that would have been messy to say the least.

"Spencer," he began, gritting his teeth and speaking as slowly and calmly as he could manage, "do you know how close I came to shooting you just now?"

"Shooting me?" Spencer had the nerve to look innocent. "But I did that to Gus the other day and all he did was turn his chair around." He looked down at the ground. "I might need to clean that up," he commented, studying the liquid that had spilled from a bottle that had been overturned when he jumped out from behind the almost-closed closet door.

"Yes, Spencer, but he does not carry a gun, nor is he trained in anything other than pharmaceutical sales!" Lassiter was at the end of his rope. He holstered his gun as he continued, "I'm serious, Spencer, I almost shot you, and if you're going to treat it this lightly, I might just actually shoot you next time!" He shook his head angrily as the other man started to reply. "Now, you listen to me. I am going to look for that kid on my own. If you want to search too, be my guest, but only if you stay at least one room away and you do not speak to me under any circumstances. Is that clear?"

Spencer, to his credit, only nodded.

"Good." That was the last of what Lassiter planned to speak to the psychic for the rest of the day - and possibly even week if he could help it.

As he turned on his heel to stalk off, Lassiter suddenly felt his feet fly out from underneath him. The sensation of being airborne registered and he had time to remember the cleaner Spencer had spilled, but that was all before the room went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Unbetaed. All mistakes are mine.

* * *

When things began to register again, the first thing Lassiter knew was that his head hurt like crazy. The second thing was that something - or someone - was pressed up against his side. He shifted and opened his eyes, groaning as the movement jostled his pounding head.

Then he realized something else.

He couldn't see anything.

His movement had apparently disturbed whoever was next to him because a small beam of light suddenly cut through the darkness - right into Lassiter's eyes. What had been a dull throbbing in the back of his skull was now a full-fledged percussion section that was getting louder with each passing second.

"Lassie! You're awake!"

"Point that light somewhere else!" Lassiter snapped irritably, rubbing his temples.

"Sorry." Spencer turned the phone so that it pointed at the far wall.

Pushing himself to a sitting position, Lassiter paused to swallow back his lunch that was threatening to make an appearance. Then he slowly maneuvered to lean against the wall opposite Spencer. He leaned back and rested his head against the hard surface behind him, shutting his eyes and willing his stomach to settle down.

A moment later, he looked across the small room and studied Spencer in the dim light. The other man was watching him with a look of what could almost be called worry.

"Are you okay, Lassie?"

"Of course I'm not okay," Lassiter replied. "What do you think, Spencer? And what are we doing in here anyway?"

"Oh, well," Spencer wrinkled his nose as he appeared to think over an explanation. "Would you believe me if I told you I didn't know?"

Spencer couldn't be serious.

"It was worth a shot," the other man shrugged. "Um, the short story is I pulled you in and shut the door."

"And the long story?" Lassiter wasn't sure he even wanted to hear the longer version. But he was most certainly not going to stay locked in a storage closet without at least knowing how he got there in the first place.

"Well, see, you slipped and hit your head on the corner of the doorframe and knocked yourself out," Spencer began, "and then I might have heard a noise that might have sounded like two bad guys, so I might have decided we were safer in here."

"Safer locked inside a closet with no way out?" His head was not in the condition it needed to be to deal with Spencer's idiocy. A moment later, the fact that the light Spencer was using was actually a cell phone registered with his brain. "Did you at least call for help with that thing?"

Spencer looked up from the small screen. "No bars," he replied simply, holding it up for Lassiter to see.

Grunting in annoyance, Lassiter shifted to pull out his own phone. The pain in his head flared as he moved, but he swallowed back the nausea and flipped open the device. He had to squint against the sudden bright light to make out anything on the screen.

No signal.

Lassiter growled and dropped the phone in his lap, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall again.

"No bars on yours either?" Spencer was certainly a master of stating the obvious.

"No, Spencer, I just decided that delaying any call for help would be the best course of action since I am concussed, locked in a small space, and find myself stuck with you of all people."

There was a brief pause, and Lassiter almost dared to hope that the other man had taken the hint. Then Spencer's overly-cheerful voice spoke up and any hope of quiet Lassiter had was shattered.

"Don't worry, Lassieface. The others will notice us missing before too long."

Lassiter didn't even bother opening his eyes. "And then what? We were having trouble finding that kid, Spencer; do you think they'll find us any easier?"

"Well, not to be Captain Oblivious here, but we are just a bit larger than a ten year old kid," Spencer replied.

Lassiter snorted. "I think it's Obvious, Spencer, though I can't argue with your word choice there."

When the other man didn't offer a retort, Lassiter cracked open one eye. Not that there was anywhere for Spencer to actually wander off, but if there was any possible way to get lost while locked in a storage closet, he had a feeling the other man would be the one to find it.

Spencer was currently aiming his phone upward, so that the light shone on the ceiling.

"Spencer, what are you doing?" Lassiter couldn't believe he was actually asking the question, but it was one surefire way to make sure he didn't fall asleep with a concussion. Because if anyone could annoy him out of sluggishness, it would be Spencer.

"Well," Spencer didn't pause from studying whatever it was he was studying as he responded, "I figure there must be some way out of here since there always is in the movies and tv shows." He frowned briefly at Lassiter's snort. "Lassie, it isn't like I'm Riley Poole or anything. And since you are much too white to be Alec Hardison, I don't think we're going to get out through the door. The walls are solid," he raised a hand over his head to bang on the wall behind him, "so that leaves the ceiling. Which appears to be made out of tiles, so I think we might be able to actually get out that way."

Lassiter blinked. Spencer's reasoning was making his head spin, and he was pretty sure there had been a racist comment in there as well. He just couldn't think straight enough to remember for sure. He honestly couldn't even remember more than the last two sentences Spencer had babbled out just a moment earlier. He raised a hand to massage his temples and took a deep breath.

"What do you think?" Spencer didn't seem to have taken the hint.

"Spencer," the head detective chose his words very carefully, "I do not know if you managed to notice, but the ceiling you just mentioned is at least two feet above either of our heads. Unless you managed to locate a ladder in your search of this closet, neither of us will be getting out through the ceiling."

"I could stand on your shoulders," Spencer volunteered.

"I would sooner be stuck in this closet with a dozen porcupines than let you climb on me," Lassiter snapped. "Besides, I don't know if you noticed in the midst of all your self-centered nonsense, but I happen to have a concussion and if I try to get up, I will most likely lose my lunch all over the place." He took a deep breath; this lecturing thing was not doing any good for his head or stomach. "Find something else to stand on or find another way out."

"Then I guess you standing on mine would be out of the question?" Spencer asked.

Lassiter was nearly ready to hit his head again just to escape the idiot he had found himself trapped with. Leaning back against the wall again, he took a deep breath and shut his eyes, doing his best to ignore Spencer's babbling as the other man got up and began walking around the enclosed space they were currently inhabiting. His head was pounding and he wanted nothing more than to get okayed by a doctor so that he could go home and forget this day had ever happened. Maybe Spencer would shut up for the remainder of their time together and everything would be-

Whatever thoughts were running through his brain at the moment were suddenly cut short by a loud crash. It reverberated throughout the small room as if someone had clanged the largest cymbals in the world and was accompanied by a yelp from Spencer and something damp hitting Lassiter's face.

Lassiter's eyes flew open and he swatted at the object on his head. He grabbed the mop that had landed on his head and threw it aside, then looked around for the source of the noise. It was hard to see anything in the dark, but he could see a little by the light from Spencer's phone, which was currently lying on the ground, illuminating the psychic's head. Lassiter could also make out a few random bottles and other cleaning supplies lying on the floor.

"Spencer, what did you do?" Lassiter growled. He wasn't concerned about the man, exactly. He just wanted to make sure there was nothing for which O'Hara could kill him when the others found them.

"Thank you, Lassie, no, I didn't hurt myself at all," Spencer groused. His head disappeared as he sat up, then the phone moved as he picked it up. "But I think I might have bruised something. More than one something, actually."

"Sorry to hear it," Lassiter muttered.

"Oh hey!" Spencer's voice echoed loudly through the closet a moment later. "Check it out!"

"No, really, Spencer," Lassiter growled, "my head isn't hurting enough yet. Please, continue."

Spencer looked at him for a moment. "All I wanted to tell you, Lassie, is that I think I found a way out."

It took a moment for Lassiter to process what the other man had just said. "You did what?"

"I found a way out!" The light from Spencer's phone illuminated the excited expression on his face. "Right here!" His volume was rising as he continued, his voice taking on an excited tone and his words tumbling together. "I must have knocked something against the wall when I fell off the shelf."

"Only you, Spencer," Lassiter muttered.

"Hey, you said to stand on something else!" Spencer defended himself.

"I did not mean to climb on a flimsy wire rack and nearly kill both of us."

"I didn't almost kill either of us.. But look! We can get out right here." Spencer pointed his phone at the wall, and Lassiter could make out a dark area that he didn't remember having seen a moment earlier. "It's a tunnel of some sort."

Even though Lassiter could not see the other man in the dark of the closet, he could just imagine Spencer sticking his head inside the tunnel to investigate. The fact that the small amount of light that Spencer's phone was emitting had disappeared almost entirely backed up his assumption. "Spencer, don't go crawling into dark places. You don't know what could happen to you."

"Relax, Lassie," Spencer's voice floated back, slightly muffled by the walls of the tunnel. "Zombies do not live in Santa Barbara."

Lassiter knew he had a head wound, but he was fairly certain the conversation had not logically moved to zombies. "What?"

"There are no zombies in Santa Barbara," Spencer repeated, his voice clearer now as if he had poked his head back into the closet.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Lassiter asked.

"You said I shouldn't go in the tunnel because something might get me," Spencer explained matter-of-factly. "But I can promise you there are no zombies in Santa Barbara - and definitely none in this tunnel."

"How do you know that?" Lassiter queried, then rolled his eyes at himself. If he was participating in this kind of discussion, he really must have hit his head pretty hard.

Lassiter could just imagine the smirk on Spencer's face as the other man continued, "Because, Lassie, if there were, we'd have seen them by now. And other than the kids dressed up as zombies that show up at my door on October 31st, I have never seen a zombie in this area before."

"You twisted my words, you know," Lassiter complained. "Now sit down and be quiet. Hopefully O'Hara will find us soon."

"But what if I want to explore the tunnel?" Spencer objected. "I promise I'll keep talking so you know where I am, and if a zombie should appear, I promise I will lead it back here so you can shoot it."

"No, Spencer." Lassiter was not in the mood for this. "Sit down and shut up."

There was a brief pause, then Spencer's voice came back, "Um, Lassie, I seem to have dropped my phone and the light went off. I'll just go find it real quick and be right back, okay?"

"Spencer!" Lassiter snapped. He put a hand to his head. There was no doubt about it, not that there had ever been; Spencer was a complete idiot.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the delay on this, y'all! Between school assignments, writer's block, and being sick, I didn't get around to finishing this up til tonight. But now it's ready! *cheers* Hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Thanks Jden for reading this for me!

* * *

As Spencer's voice trailed off, Lassiter sighed heavily. Spencer was an idiot who did not listen to any word of instruction he did not want to. Unfortunately, none of that changed the fact that he was O'Hara's idiot, and as such, Lassiter couldn't allow him to go off into unknown danger alone.

Even if it would probably get both of them killed.

"Spencer!" Lassiter hissed, trying not to yell too loudly and exacerbate the throbbing in his already-pounding head.

There was no answer.

Lassiter grunted in annoyance and started to push himself to his feet. His head spun, and he soon found himself on his hands and knees, breathing heavily in an attempt to avoid losing any food he had ingested prior to this stupid field trip.

After a moment, the feeling passed, and he sat back on his knees. Fumbling in his pocket for his phone, he held it up so that what feeble light the screen put off would illuminate his path. Thankfully the closet was small enough that it wouldn't take him long to get to the hole in the wall down which Spencer had disappeared.

Since standing up was not a viable option at the moment, Lassiter shuffled forward on his knees, albeit a little awkwardly since one of his hands was occupied with his cell phone.

When he reached the opening, he raised his phone to illuminate the interior of the tunnel. Unfortunately, the feeble beam of light only lit up about a foot ahead.

Lassiter sighed and stuck his head into the tunnel. "Spencer!" he called, then winced when his voice echoed. "Spencer!" he tried again, this time a little lower.

There was no reply from the other man, but Lassiter heard a faint thumping from farther down the tunnel. Rolling his eyes, Lassiter moved forward a few feet. He could feel the tunnel's ceiling brushing against the top of his head as he made his way along.

The floor of the passageway felt cold and hard to the touch; it felt like some sort of metal. Lassiter put a hand out to feel the walls and ceiling, noting that they felt much the same way. Judging from the narrow width of the tunnel and the way it took a sharp turn here and there, Lassiter was fairly certain he was in some sort of air duct.

"Spencer!" he tried again. There was still no response but a moment later, a faint light began to filter through the tunnel. Lassiter squinted, trying to make out if he was hallucinating or if there actually was something up ahead. It was quite possible the tunnel was actually-

"Lassie!"

Lassiter jumped, knocking his head against the hard ceiling right above him, causing his previous head injury to painfully protest. "Spencer, what did I tell you about sneaking up on people like that?" he growled, putting a hand to his head as he glared at the other man.

For his part, Spencer continued like nothing was wrong. "Guess what! This ends up ahead and it comes out in a maintenance room near an exit!"

"Spencer, for the love of justice, please do not shout like that," Lassiter ordered. "And I don't really care where this tunnel ends, so long as it actually ends somewhere where I can stretch my legs and let my partner know where I am."

"Well, in that case, follow me!" Spencer replied, much too cheerfully.

A muffled thumping echoed around them as he turned then hurried off. Lassiter followed at a slightly slower pace, reaching the end of the tunnel shortly after Spencer.

"See?" Spencer was pointing to the opening they had just exited. "This must be some sort of ventilation shaft," he babbled.

Lassiter didn't even bother replying. His phone was still in his hand from being used as a flashlight in the tunnel, and the head detective was beyond relieved to see that he now had a signal. He pressed the button to speed-dial O'Hara and put the device to his ear.

Spencer had already begun wandering around the small room, poking into various storage crates that were stacked along the walls and generally being a busybody. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Lassiter turned so he did not have to watch the other man's childish behavior.

A moment later, his partner's voice picked up. "Carlton! Where are you?"

"I'm... not sure, exactly," Lassiter replied slowly.

O'Hara's voice was slightly distorted with static. "You're not sure?"

"Well," Lassiter rubbed his forehead. The pounding was back, louder than before, and he was having to concentrate very hard to put his thoughts in order. "We were in the Arctic exhibit room, and Spencer found a closet that he locked me in..."

"You're in a closet right now?" O'Hara sounded like she was hurrying somewhere. "By the Arctic exhibit?"

"Was..."

"You said Shawn locked you in? Is he still there?"

Lassiter cocked his head as he thought that over for a moment. "He locked us both in, actually. But then he found a tunnel and now we're in another closet..."

"Carlton!" O'Hara exclaimed, her voice a mixture of concern and sternness. "Are you okay?"

"Define okay." Oh no, he was starting to sound like Spencer. "I mean... I'm fine. I hit my head though." Speaking of his head, it was really getting on his nerves. Whoever was banging around inside it needed to stop.

"You hit your head?" O'Hara now sounded even more worried than before. "Is Shawn there?"

"Spencer?" Lassiter blinked. "He was..." He turned to look for the other man. "Yeah, still here, still causing trouble. You know it's his fault I hit my head in the first place."

Spencer had heard his name and was now standing eagerly in front of Lassiter. "Hi, Jules!" he called, leaning towards the phone in Lassiter's hand.

"Carlton," O'Hara's tone was one of forced calm, "can I talk to Shawn?"

"Spencer?" Lassiter swatted at the other man, who was now attempting to snatch the phone.

"Yes, Spencer."

Lassiter sighed. "Fine." He held the phone out to Spencer and moved to lean back against the nearest wall. He had to have aggravated his head injury when Spencer startled him in the air duct; there was now much more pain than there had been before, and things were swaying ever so slightly the more he stood.

"Yes, Jules, Lassie is still in one piece," Spencer was saying. "And guess what else? I found some of the stuff that was reported missing from the museum in that robbery yesterday... Mhmm. It's in some crates in the room we're in."

Lassiter raised an eyebrow and studied the boxes in which Spencer had been nosing around a few moments before while Lassiter was on the phone.

"Well, I sense that whoever committed the robbery had access to the museum already, since Gus told me that you can't really hack into security as well as they did on National Treasure," Spencer was saying as Lassiter turned his attention back to the other man's conversation. "And they used the vent system in that closet Lassie got us locked inside to get the stuff out. This is right by an exit so they can take it out really easily."

"I did not get us locked in anywhere!" Lassiter protested.

Spencer stuck his tongue out at the head detective as he continued, "They're probably waiting to take it out until tonight or later... Maybe they got interrupted. The spirits didn't tell me that part!"

"For Pete's sake, Spencer, let's go!" Lassiter was starting to get annoyed with the delay. He had called O'Hara so that his partner would know what had happened, and now Spencer had turned it into one of his stupid visions.

"Lassie's getting impatient, Jules," Spencer tsked. "But you might want to get here and help us; I think he needs it."

Briefly Lassiter considered commenting on Spencer's surprisingly mature remark, but before he could, there was a creak from the opposite side of the room. It sounded like a door that hadn't been oiled recently was being forced open.

The newcomer's surprised exclamation was quickly followed by the order of, "Get your hands where I can see them!"

Lassiter attempted to focus on the man's face, but all he could see was the handgun that was currently being pointed between him and Spencer.

Instinctively, his hand moved to his gun, but it came up empty. With a start, he realized he had drawn it just before he slipped on the cleaner Spencer had spilled. He must have dropped his weapon then.

He was definitely going to kill Spencer when he got it back.

"Get over by him!" the man yelled at Spencer, who quickly complied. "And hang up that phone!"

"Okay, okay," Spencer nodded, doing as ordered.

"Now slide it here!" The man was still yelling, Lassiter noted. The throbbing in his head was getting worse.

"You're one of the art thieves, aren't you?" Spencer asked, sending Lassiter's phone skidding across the hard floor towards the other man.

"Shut up," he growled, stepping hard on the phone.

The indignant thought that he had just upgraded flashed through Lassiter's mind as the device splintered under the man's shoe.

"Do you have a phone?" the man demanded, turning the gun directly on Lassiter.

"Not on me," Lassiter replied, holding back the fact that it was his phone, not Spencer's, that had just been destroyed.

"So you are an art thief," Spencer prompted again.

Lassiter wanted to punch him. The idiot was going to get them both shot if he didn't keep his mouth shut.

"What's it to you?" The man was nervous, Lassiter could tell. His dark eyes darted back and forth, as if he was trying to determine what to do next, and he kept running a hand through his thin blond hair.

Spencer shrugged. "Oh, you know, just making conversation. And I'm curious as to why you're pointing that gun at me."

The man waved the weapon back and forth. "Well I'm certainly not doing it for fun!"

"Fair enough," Spencer put up both hands. "Tell me... Joe. Can I call you Joe? Did you take all of this by yourself? Or did someone help you?"

"I told you to shut up! I'm trying to think here!"

"Right," Spencer nodded. "It's tough trying to figure out what to do when you suddenly find yourself with two hostages."

"And what would you know about it?"

"Spencer, just be quiet," Lassiter growled. He had been searching for some way to take the gunman down, but without his weapon, not to mention a head that was currently spinning from an injury, options were limited. Hopefully O'Hara would locate them soon.

"Your friend's wise," the man smirked. "Listen to him."

Spencer crossed his arms and sighed, but before he could make a protest of any sort, there was a metallic thump from somewhere inside of the air duct through which Lassiter and Spencer had crawled just moments before and which was currently behind the gunman. When the man spun to point his weapon at the noise, Lassiter took the opportunity. His head throbbed violently as he pushed himself to a standing position, but he ignored it and launched himself at the man.

Ducking his head, Lassiter slammed into the gunman, dragging the other man to the ground. The gun flew from the thief's hand as it hit the ground, and Lassiter started to scramble after it. His stomach protested, but Lassiter gritted his teeth against the nausea. The other man had different ideas, however; he pushed to his own feet and landed a blow on the back of the detective's head.

There was a sudden flash of light and then, for the second time that afternoon, Lassiter's world went dark.

He wasn't sure how long it was before things started coming back into focus, but when they did, the first thing he saw was Spencer's face.

"Lassie!"

"Spencer, don't yell," Lassiter groaned.

Spencer nodded quickly. "Right, sorry," he whispered.

"Is that my gun?" Lassiter raised an eyebrow as he noticed the item in Spencer's hands.

"Oh, yeah," Spencer replied, looking down as if he just noticed what he was holding. "I grabbed it while you two were fighting."

"And you're not pointing it at the criminal?" Lassiter snapped, attempting to push to his feet.

"Carlton!" O'Hara suddenly appeared next to Spencer.

Lassiter blinked. He knew he had a concussion, possibly two, but he had definitely missed something just now. "O'Hara?"

"See, Lassie, this is why I don't have to point your gun at a bad guy," Spencer explained gleefully. "Jules came through the tunnel too and arrested him. Which was disappointing," he added, wrinkling his nose. "I was just about to get your handcuffs and do it myself."

Lassiter searched for a reply but finally just settled on snapping, "Spencer, give my gun to O'Hara right now."

"Or what?" Spencer asked defensively.

"Or I will get up, take it from you, and shoot you with it, concussion or no concussion."

Spencer blinked, then quickly handed the weapon to O'Hara.

"The ambulance will be here in a few minutes," O'Hara informed her partner, ignoring the two men's bickering.

Lassiter started to nod, then winced at the pain in his head. "Where's Guster?" he managed, giving up on moving his head to look around the room.

"With Rob," Spencer supplied. "They went get snacks... I wonder if Gus remembered that Ding Dong I asked for..."

"You found him?" Lassiter asked, ignoring Spencer's idiotic nonsense.

"Yes," O'Hara nodded. "He had stayed behind at the jungle exhibit. Gus is keeping an eye on him for now."

"And there were monkeys there!" Spencer exclaimed excitedly. "Just like in the movie! I bet they come alive at night and everything!"

Lassiter grunted and shut his eyes. "Spencer, just shut up, would you?"

"But..."

"Shawn," O'Hara interrupted her boyfriend. "Why don't you go watch for the ambulance? They should be here any minute."

As Spencer wandered off, Lassiter took a deep breath and relaxed. There would be painkillers pretty soon, and he was planning on having Spencer banned from his hospital room for however long he had to stay there. He'd have to ban Guster too. Knowing Spencer, the two men would hatch some sort of conspiracy together if one of them was allowed in.

At least he hadn't broken anything. He should be able to get back to work within a week if all went well.


End file.
